


A Helping Hand

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Early Days, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Takes place during the second year of the partnership. In which Illya looks after a wounded Napoleon and wonders about commitment–and Napoleon can’t help but be a little vain.





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ksturf for plot help!

It had given Illya a scare when, after Napoleon had gone missing after the destruction of a THRUSH base, Illya had discovered Napoleon sprawled in the branches of a tree on a mountainside.

“Napoleon!?” Illya had exclaimed. “Napoleon, _Dorogoy,_ speak to me! Are you alright!?”

Napoleon had stirred as Illya had gotten him down from the tree, flinching at first and starting to struggle as much as he could, but then had begun to relax as he realized that it was Illya.

“Illya…?” he had mumbled. Ohh… I feel like a ragdoll tossed around a group of rowdy kids…”

“What happened to you, Napoleon?” Illya had asked, gently cradling Napoleon in his arms. “Did they--?”

“No, nothing like that… This was my own fault. I set off the boom and I thought I could outrun the boom… I probably could have if I’d left ten seconds earlier. But, this time, the boom was faster…” Napoleon had mumbled. “And I’ve been napping in that tree ever since the boom.”

Napoleon had, clearly, still been out of it, but was otherwise alright—no broken bones and, from Illya’s diagnosis, no serious internal injuries. Still, he was in some discomfort, and Illya was eager to get him to Medical, but as Illya had been helping him down the mountainside, a summer storm had broken out over the slope. Not wanting to risk navigating the mountain in the bad weather, Illya had sought refuge in a cave with Napoleon and had radioed back for help. His reply had been that an extraction team wouldn’t be able to risk maneuvering in the bad weather, either, and with Napoleon’s injuries not being too serious, they had been instructed to stay put until the extraction team could reach them.

And so, Illya had made Napoleon as comfortable as possible, gently tending to his wounds, and then allowed Napoleon to use him as a pillow. He soaked a handkerchief with his water canteen and gently cleaned off all of the blood and dirt, and then applied some natural herbs to the wounds before covering them up with the bandages. Napoleon had been in a fitful sleep throughout all of this as the storm continued to rage outside, and, thankfully, he didn’t show any indication of being in too much pain. Finally, Illya gently tied off the white bandages, speaking to his partner softly.

“I am glad I was able to find you in time,” Illya said. “You did not have to get soaked in the storm. But I am sorry I could not help you destroy the satrap. I probably could have spared you this pain… But I am here now.”

He planted a few, gentle kisses on Napoleon’s face; Napoleon now came awake slightly and managed a small smile and cuddled against Illya, nuzzling his head between Illya’s neck and shoulder.

“Thanks, _Tovarisch_ …” he mumbled. “And I’m sorry that I dragged you all the way out here…”

“You would have done the same for me,” Illya insisted. “I wanted to be with you, Napoleon—to help you. I have done much thinking since we started going together, and I have realized that I want to spend my life with you.”

Was this really the time to start discussing commitment? Illya wasn’t sure; it certainly seemed unfair to put Napoleon on the spot when he was injured, and Illya regretted it almost immediately. But it had slipped out—more than that, Napoleon didn’t seem too opposed to the idea. …Well, he was barely conscious, too…

“…I’d like that…” Napoleon mumbled.

“You would?” Illya asked.

“Yeah…” Napoleon said, quietly. “There’s just… one thing…”

“What’s that?”

“…Is my face alright?”

Illya stared at him, dumbfounded for a full minute.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he protested, deciding that Napoleon was delirious.

“I’ve got a reputation, you know…” the American said, looking up slightly to look Illya in the eyes. 

“Napoleon…”

“I’m supposed to be flawlessly-looking…”

Illya silently facepalmed for a moment before shaking his head.

“Your vanity is truly incredible,” Illya muttered.

“I only want you to have the very best…” Napoleon mumbled. “You don’t want someone with a messed-up face, do you?”

Illya blinked, and then gently stroked Napoleon’s face.

“You may relax, Napoleon. Your face has managed to go unscathed. And it is as beautiful as it has ever been.”

“Oh good…” Napoleon said, nestling back against Illya’s shoulder.

“Your clothes have seen better days, though…”

Napoleon responded with a groan.

“But furthermore,” Illya went on. “It would not matter to me whether or not you had received scars on your face.” He gently placed Napoleon’s chin in his hand and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “If it is your wish, I will stay with you no matter what happens to your face.”

“It is,” Napoleon mumbled, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of Illya’s touch. “It’s exactly what I wished for—well, what I wanted to wish for. See, last year, I went to Egypt that one time--”

Illya smiled, cutting him off with a gentle shush.

“Sleep for now,” he instructed. “You will feel much better once you regain more of your strength. We can talk about our plans for the future afterwards, and you can tell your story about what happened in Egypt.”

Napoleon mumbled in protest, but as Illya softly sang to him, that, combined with his own fatigue, caused him to drift off rather quickly.

Illya smiled again, still gently stroking Napoleon’s face as he glanced out the mouth of the cave and watched the storm, his heart lighter than ever before despite the downpour and the lightning.

He would have to bring up the subject when Napoleon was more awake, but their conversation now showed that, even when not fully aware, Napoleon was more than open to the idea of commitment.

“You could have had anyone in the world your heart desired,” Illya said, still amazed. “And yet, you chose me?”

Illya didn’t believe in miracles—not usually. But, this time, he was willing to make an exception.


End file.
